


Spooky

by SoloChaos



Category: Drew Carey's Improv-A-Ganza RPF, Real Person Fiction, Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Halloween Costumes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 17:10:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10881282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloChaos/pseuds/SoloChaos
Summary: It's Halloween, the spookiest night of the year.





	Spooky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TT40_Angst_Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TT40_Angst_Queen/gifts).



> This is a gift for DIAlecHotty. Sorry it took so long!
> 
>  
> 
> I don't think I made this clear enough in the fic, but in this, vampires feed off people without killing them, and their victims' memories are wiped (by vampire venom or something, idk).

“Do you like it?”

Greg looks up from the bar, choking on his drink when he sees Ryan Stiles standing there, wearing red leather pants, a black tank top, and a blond wig. He’s holding a wooden stake in his hand.

“Are you– are you Buffy?” he splutters out. 

“I am,” Ryan says, taking a seat next to Greg. He flips some hair away from his face dramatically. “I thought it would be funny.”

“It is. Ha ha. I am very amused,” Greg says dryly. It actually  _is_  kind of funny, but he’s certainly not going to tell Ryan that.

“So, what are you?” Ryan asks him, looking him up and down. “Elvis Costello?”

“I’m not in costume,” Greg tells him.

Ryan frowns. “Oh.”

“Elvis Costello?” Greg says, raising an eyebrow. 

“A young Elvis Costello!” Ryan says defensively. “You’ve got the hair and glasses thing, you know?”

“Hmph,” Greg says, taking a sip of his scotch. 

“It wasn’t an insult,” Ryan says, rolling his eyes. 

As Ryan signals the bartender for a drink, Greg takes a moment to survey the bar. Nearly everyone’s in costume, and Greg smirks when he sees a guy in a vampire costume, complete with a cape, plastic fangs, and a fake widow’s peak. 

Ryan turns to Greg, taking a sip of his cosmopolitan. They’re something he started drinking ironically. At some point, they stopped being ironic. “What?” he says. 

Greg nods towards vampire costume guy. 

Ryan snorts. “Is that offensive?” he asks, smirking. “Y’know, like, culturally insensitive?”

“Oh, yes,” Greg says, nodding mock-seriously. “As a proud member of the undead community, I am, of course, deeply offended by this capricious use of such insulting stereotypes.” 

“Oh, but of course,” Ryan says, taking another drink of his cosmo. He’s still holding his wooden stake. “Hey,” he says. “You should eat him.”

“I’m not going to eat him,” Greg says. “Even though it would be hilarious.”

“It would be,” Ryan agrees, nodding. “Okay, what about that guy?” he suggests, using his stake to point to a guy dressed as Elvis Presley. “Two Elvises collide.”

Greg rolls his eyes. “You’re weird tonight.”

“Baby, I’m always weird,” Ryan says. He jabs the wooden stake in Greg's direction. “And you love it.”

“Don’t point that at me,” Greg says, batting the stake away.

“Oh, sorry,” Ryan says, setting the stake down. He pauses. “Wait, those things are actually dangerous to you? You’d actually die from a wooden stake to your heart?”

“Well, yes,” Greg says.  _“Anyone_  would die from from a wooden stake to their heart.” 

Ryan considers that. “I suppose that makes sense,” he concludes. 

“You  _suppose,”_  Greg says with a scoff. 

Ryan ignores him. “So, who are you going to eat, then?”

“Why are you so obsessed with me eating someone?” Greg asks, raising an eyebrow. “I ate yesterday, man. I’m good for, like, a week. I’m not a stupid human who’s got to eat, what, two times a day?”

“Three,” Ryan says. 

_“Three?”_  Greg squawks.  _“So_  inefficient.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “It’s Halloween,” he says, getting back to Greg’s original question. “You  _have_  to feed on someone. It’s the spookiest night of the year!”

Greg stares at him. “What are you, five?”

“Ha ha,” Ryan says. “Come on. Do it for the kids.”

“It’s not like they’d remember me feeding from them, man,” Greg says. “It’ll only be spooky for them for like, three minutes. At the most.”

“It’ll be spooky for me for a long time,” Ryan says, putting a hand on Greg’s thigh. 

Greg stares at his hand. “I feel like you’re using the word spooky to mean something else,” he says. 

Ryan chuckles. “You’re feeling that correctly,” he says. “Come on. I can’t help finding the sight of you sinking your teeth into flesh…  _spooky,_  you know.” 

Greg drains the rest of his scotch. “I’ll meet you in the bathroom,” he says. 

“Bring Dracula,” Ryan says, pointing to the guy dressed as a vampire as he stands. 

“Of course,” Greg says. “Oh, and Ryan?”

Ryan looks back at him. 

“Keep the wig on,” Greg says. 

Ryan snickers. “Will do.”


End file.
